


Soccer Moms and Dad Jokes

by Trigger Finger (NatashaCole)



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: A swear word, F/M, Soccer, dad jokes, puns, store-bought muffins
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-11
Updated: 2018-10-11
Packaged: 2019-07-29 17:20:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,513
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16268837
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NatashaCole/pseuds/Trigger%20Finger
Summary: Reader isn’t your typical soccer mom. Rob isn’t your typical soccer dad… well, aside from the dad jokes.





	Soccer Moms and Dad Jokes

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by an idea that someone came up with for a fic as a response to Rob's "soccer mummy" tweet, IDK what happened here honestly.

“Susan, I remembered to bring the snack this time,” you said as you held up the proof for her to see.

“Oh, Y/N, I did send you the recipe for the sugar-free muffins, didn’t I?”

“You sure did,” you replied. “But, I had time for store-bought muffins that are most likely packed with sugar. I don’t think the kids will mind.”

“Hmm,” she hummed, looking at you disapprovingly. “Maybe next time you can find the time for a… healthier option.”

“Probably not. I do work full-time. And I don’t really bake or cook as it is.”

“Well, thanks anyway,” she said as she forced a smile and took the muffins from you.

You grumbled under your breath as you walked away. Nothing that you ever did for the team was enough for Susan or the other moms, and they were always quick to let you know that you didn't do as much as they did.  


You wandered the sidelines until you eventually found a clear spot where you could set up your chair. It was far enough away from the other parents, but still gave you a good view of the field. Your daughter was already with her team as they prepared to start the first game of the season.

You were just getting comfortable in your seat, taking a moment to scroll through your phone as to avoid making eye contact with any of the other parents. The moment you did notice someone, they would certainly feel obligated to make small talk, and you avoided that like the plague. 

Normally, the other parents avoided you anyway and you weren’t used to much interaction at these events. The other soccer moms always showed up with their husbands and other kids, which left you out of the little circle of happily married couples with picturesque families. Not that you cared really.  


Truthfully, you had nothing in common with these people; other than the fact that your daughter loved to play soccer. You were a single mom who worked full-time and barely made it through each day with your sanity still intact.

You only looked up from your phone when you noticed a man that you recognized as one of the other parents take a seat next to you. You knew his name was Rob, and you saw him every other week at practices and games. Usually, he was alone, just as you were; but occasionally you saw him with a woman that you only knew was his son’s mother. You didn’t know the situation there, and even though you had thought Rob was attractive the first time you saw him at a practice, you knew it was probably not worth it to be too friendly. Of course you had noticed that he never wore a wedding ring, but even you knew that didn’t always mean anything.

“Do you mind if I join you?” He asked as he glanced over to you.

“N-no, that’s fine.”

“I’m trying to avoid the soccer moms,” he chuckled. “I can only take so much of the weekly screaming and belittling of the kids and other parents.”

“You do realize that I’m a soccer mom?” You asked.

“Well, yeah,” he chuckled. “And I’m technically a soccer dad… but you and I… we’re different.”

“Are we now?” 

His words piqued your interest and you put your phone down, giving him your full attention.

“Yeah, I mean, do either of us really want to be here?”

“Of course I want to be here,” you replied. “Soccer makes her very happy.”

You nodded in the direction of the field. The game had already started but you hadn’t noticed until now since Rob had joined you and caught your attention.

“It makes my son happy as well,” he agreed. “But, truthfully, watching five year olds play an organized team sport is fucking frustrating.”

“Language,” you said with a fake gasp. 

“Sorry.”

“I don’t mind, but don’t let Susan hear you. She’ll have you banned.”

“Really? I should swear more often then,” he said with a grin.

“It’s not so bad,” you laughed. “They’re cute.”

You stared off at the field, smiling as the kids ran around in confusion already. 

“Yeah, they do love it. At least until the moms start yelling.”

“Not all moms. Besides, the dads are just as bad. I feel bad for the coaches when the dads get worked up.”

“Like I said, you and I are different.”

He kept his eyes on you and you noticed for the first time just how blue they were. You felt your breath catch when you realized that he was certainly focused on only you right now. 

“I guess we are,” you agreed.

Your conversation was interrupted as one of the parents near you began to yell toward the field. You and Rob both shot your attention her way as she shouted at someone. Her kid? A ref? The entire team? At this point, it was hard to tell anymore.

You saw Rob roll his eyes at the display before letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Do they know how ridiculous they sound?” He asked you. “I mean, the kids have coaches. They don’t need our two cents added in.”

“Not to mention the fact that they are five year olds… It’s really not that serious.” 

“See, you get it. It’s supposed to be fun,” he pointed out. “I don't see how anyone is having any fun when Susan is over here yelling at everyone.”

“You think she yells like that at home?” You asked curiously.

“At her kids? Probably. Her husband probably gets the worst of it though.”

“He is a little timid,” you said as you glanced over to Bill sitting next to Susan. Sure enough, he sat there quietly as he usually did, probably embarrassed by the way Susan shouted from the sidelines. Of course, she wasn’t the only one who was guilty of overreacting at every game. Usually all of the moms got too into the games.

“I would be too,” Rob mumbled. “Maybe it’s because you and I are always here alone. Do you think that’s why we’re so chill?”

“I don’t think that’s why we keep our cool. I think we can just tell the difference between peewee soccer and the World Cup.”

“The World Cup?” He asked as he scrunched up his face in confusion. “Is that soccer?”

“I’m pretty sure it’s soccer,” you laughed.

“You’re probably right…” 

“Do you even know anything about soccer?” You asked.

“Sure, I know enough. My kid plays midfield. And when your kid is where she’s supposed to be, she’s the goalkeeper.”

“Neat," you said jokingly. "You know like, two soccer terms.”

“I’m just  _ defending _ myself.” He responded with a smirk. 

You definitely took note of the way he emphasized the word, which confused you a little.

“I didn’t mean to be so  _ forward _ ,” he continued.

“Are you making soccer puns?” You asked when you finally caught on to what he was doing.

“That wasn’t my  _ goal _ …”

“Dad jokes,” you cringed. “Nice.”

He let out a laugh, obviously amused with himself and the fact that he had actually made you smile.

“I thought you weren’t like the other soccer dads.”

“I’m not,” he said. “But I can’t help it if I have great jokes.”

You chuckled softly at him again, thinking about how it was kind of adorable that he found it all so funny.

“You’re probably right, by the way,” you continued. “About the whole, being at these things alone thing. The husbands and wives probably feed off of each other... one starts yelling, so the other has to join in.”

"Pack mentality," he said simply.

"Or, just over-involved parenting," you corrected him.

“Speaking of, I’ve never seen your husband at games or practices." 

You put your hand up to show him your ring-less finger after he said it. It was always your go to response to anyone who asked you about your marriage that didn't exist. Every other adult here had brought it up at one point at least. It was almost as if you were expected to be married.  


“Not married. Not anymore anyway…”

“Does her dad not come to games ever?”

“No, he’s not really… involved.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t mean to pry.”

“It’s okay,” you smiled. “You’re not prying. Although, now you know I have to ask about your wife. You’re rarely at games or practices together.”

“Ex-wife,” he corrected you. “We just switch off every week with the kids.”

“Must be nice,” you smiled. “Co-parenting like pros.”

“Yeah, it works well for everyone.”

“You’re very lucky then.”

“It’s not always easy, but we make it work,” he replied. 

“So, I guess your assumption is pretty spot on.”

He quirked a brow at you, seemingly intrigued by what you had to say.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. We’re the only single parents here… we’re also the calmest.”

“Here’s my take on it,” he began as he scooted his char just a bit closer to yours. He leaned in closely to explain; both of you still too focused on each other to even pay attention to the game going on.

“All these parents,” he said as he motioned broadly to the sidelines that were packed with families, “they’re all stay-at-home moms or working dads. It's all very typical suburban lifestyles.”

“You don’t know that for sure,” you argued. "What does that even mean?"  


“No, I do know. Sort of. Susan doesn’t work. Trust me, I’m friends with Bill. She stays at home with three kids.”

“What does that have to do with anything?”

“She’s a real soccer mom. She’s always busy doing something even though she doesn’t need to be busy.. She organizes every fundraiser, drives a minivan, always finds the time to cook a meal for her family and bake muffins from scratch...  but all of that makes her high-strung because she wants to be high-strung. That’s why she acts like this at soccer games.”

“Because she’s a busy mom? That makes no sense.”

“I’m just saying, this is all very serious to people like her because it makes her feel important. She needs something to take too seriously.”

"Come on..." you responded in disbelief.

"I mean it. Take you for example. Single mom, works full-time, doesn't hardly have time for herself... so you take this kind of stuff a little less seriously. I bet you have other things that you need to worry about more than a kids soccer game."

“Well, I won’t argue with that,” you replied. “Really though, I’m only here because she just loves to play.”

“Not a real soccer mom,” he grinned.

“Whatever,” you said with a laugh as you shook your head at him.

“If you were a real soccer mom, you would’ve made sugar-free applesauce muffins for the game. You know, the kind with homemade applesauce from the apples you picked off your apple tree.”

You looked back at him and he was still watching you with interest in his expression. It was almost as if he didn’t want the conversation to end, so he was coming up with whatever he could to keep you talking.

“You heard that?” You asked in amusement.

“Oh, the part where Susan berated you for bringing store-bought muffins? Yeah I heard that.”

“What can I say, I’m a busy woman. I don’t have a lot of time to bake. Sorry your son is going to be hopped up on sugar during half-time.”

“I really don’t mind,” he said with a smile. 

“It’s the single mom life. At least you sort of understand.”

“Yeah, I get it.”

You heard some of the parents shouting again and you turned your attention to what was happening. You nearly kicked yourself when you remembered that you should be watching the game like all of the other parents, but you were far more interested in talking to Rob.

You couldn’t remember the last time an attractive man spoke to you, and you were quite enjoying the attention from him right now.

You shook your head when you realized that some of the parents were definitely yelling at their kids, who obviously couldn’t even hear anything as they were more focused on dilly-dallying around out on the field. You spotted your daughter who, at that moment, watched as the ball shot past her. She made no attempt to even recover it for the team, and you smiled to yourself when you realized she was already bored. 

“Your kid looks exactly how I feel right now,” Rob pointed out.

“Bored out of your mind?” You asked. 

“Always. Honestly, I don’t even really understand soccer.”

“Sounds like you belong on the team,” you replied.

“Speaking of bored…" he started before pausing for just a moment as he seemed to consider if he should say what he wanted to say next. "If you ever get bored, we should have dinner some time.”

It was a quick change of subject and it immediately caught you off-guard. You weren’t sure if you heard him right to begin with, but you were pretty certain he had just simply asked you out.

“Dinner?”

“Yeah, you know… that meal that comes after lunch but before breakfast.”

“Um- I- uh…” you were suddenly speechless. 

He seemed to act so casual about it, but perhaps you were surprised by the fact that no man had asked you to out to dinner since your first date with your now ex-husband. 

“You don’t have to,” Rob said when he noticed that you weren’t going to reply right away. “I just- thought it might be fun to hang out.”

“Did you just ask me out to dinner?” You asked, looking for clarification.

“Yeah, but like, a real date where we go to a restaurant together. I’m gonna take Susan’s comments to you from earlier as proof that you don’t even know how to cook.”

“I can kind of cook,” you corrected him. “I just rarely have the time.”

“Well, do you think you might have some time somewhere to go out with me?” He asked.

You were breathless again. This man that you had sort of had your eye on each time you saw him at soccer practice, had just asked you out. He was cute and funny and not at all like the other dads’ well, aside from the bad puns. But, most importantly, he was single just like you. 

“I think I can probably move some things around on my schedule,” you replied finally. You had hoped to respond with something flirty, but it actually just came out really lame. Regardless, Rob smiled harder at you when he realized that you had agreed.

“Would you look at that?” He said with a sly smile. “I’m the only one at this game who’s scoring.” 

You shook your head and covered your face with your hands as you groaned in humiliation by his bad pun. 

“Oh god,” you muttered, “please, no more dad jokes.”

“Yeah, that one was pretty bad,” he said in agreement as he gave you a pained look. “I even embarrassed myself.”


End file.
